


wrong place, wrong time

by military_bluebells



Series: Generation Kill Week [6]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Canon-typical language, Generation Kill Week, Gunshot Wounds, Light Angst, M/M, Serious Injuries, Set in canon, no character death tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26882041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/military_bluebells/pseuds/military_bluebells
Summary: What if the firefights didn't go as well as they did in the series?Or, more accurately, an excuse to injury Ray and make Brad watch.
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Series: Generation Kill Week [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967950
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Further warning in case you didn't read the tags:
> 
> Gunshot Wounds, Serious Injuries but NO character death

The road was bumpy under the Humvee tires, jolting them up and down as they moved along. Brad sat silently as they passed even more barren land. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Ray grab the bottle of Ripped Fuel off the dashboard and drink from it. Brad rolled his eyes when Ray winked at him, but it didn’t settle the worry churning in his stomach: the last time he’d checked the bottle, it had been half empty. The raid on the hamlet had been a waste of time: they only found a couple of guns, no RPG’s, and a stash of what looked like weed. Ray had wanted to take some, but Brad didn’t need his RTO on multiple drugs at once, his motor-mouth was bad enough with just Ripped Fuel. 

Trombley was quiet, always was, but when Brad turned his head to glance at the kid, he was looking out into his sector with a morose look. Shooting the kids hadn’t shocked Trombley as much as it would have anyone else, at least not visibly, but Brad knew that the kid at least felt a little guilty, even if it was only about the hazing he was getting because of it. Brad felt heavy guilt weigh on him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. 

Stay frosty. 

Ray started to hum something under his breath, tapping his hand on the wheel in time. It took Brad a second to recognise the tune before he said blankly, “No country music Ray.” 

Ray’s response was instant, “Brad, Ring of Fire is a classic and you let Walt sing Johnny Cash!” 

“That’s because Walt’s voice doesn’t sound like a woman giving birth to a hoard of scorpions while her hippie brother grinds his guitar to pieces next to her.” 

Ray scoffed, before shouting up to Walt, “Hey Walt, Colbert’s got a hard-on for your voice!” 

Brad could hear Reporter chuckling behind him as Walt called back, “I ain’t got much competition,” 

Ray gasped dramatically, gripping his chest with one hand, “Walt, buddy, brother, I didn’t expect this kind of betrayal from you. We are brethren, bonded through the brain cells we have lost in this great invasion.” Brad smirked, looking out of his window as he heard Walt laugh above them. He even thought he could hear Trombley snickering. 

The Humvee kicked up sand as they turned down a road, the ground either side of them dropping away into a two-foot drop. Brad scanned the open fields, looking across out of Ray’s window at the small creak between them and the other bank, covered in yellow long grass and small green trees. Nate’s voice crackled through the radio, _“All Hitman Two vectors we are pushing on to Al Hayy. Maintain 25 kph. Maintain dispersion.”_

Brad heard Ray sigh and watched him rub at his eyes, before gripping the wheel again, bare fingers curling around the wheel tightly. 

It was quiet for a second, then gunfire started, kicking up sand along the bank towards them. The Humvee jolted to a stop as the gunfire came across the bank, travelling along their column. Other men were already jumping out of their Humvees, down the bank on Brad’s side. 

Brad shoved his door open, skidding down the bank to look up at the Humvee. He watched Walt jump off his gun to the ground before sliding down the bank beside Brad. Reporter dived out of his door seconds later, falling front first down the bank, throwing dirt over Brad and crashing into Walt. Brad heard Walt ask Reporter if he was okay as he shouted, “Ray, get out of the vehicle!” Trombley appeared from the other side of the Humvee, jogging over to Brad to slide down on his belly. 

“Ray!” Brad called again as Ray appeared from behind the Humvee. The gunfire started again, and Brad watched as Ray looked up, seconds before blood shot from his neck. Ray’s eyes went wide and then he was falling, smacking his side and head on the ground. “Ray!” Brad jerked forward but he had to duck as bullets shot pass the front of the Humvee. Ray didn’t answer and Brad lifted his head up over the edge of the bank to look. Ray was still slumped on his side, a hand pressed against his throat, his gun thrown on the ground. His other arm was splayed out on the road and his head was jerking, like he was choking. 

“Shit, is he hit?” Walt shouted, coming to lay next to Brad. 

“Throat,” Brad said blankly, staring at Ray’s form, twitching in the road, blood dripping onto the dirt. Shock weighed him down, disbelief. 

Ray was hit. 

He shook his head and yelled over Walt’s shoulder, “Man down!” He saw Poke stare at him before turning to shout over his shoulder. He turned back to Trombley, who had his binoculars out and was peering over the edge of the bank. Brad ducked back down as bullets hit steel less than two feet away. 

“When the clip finishes, on my twelve,” Brad said to Walt. The gunfire cut off and Brad sprung from the dirt, Walt moving to crouch behind the front of the Humvee, setting his M-16 set on the hood. Brad grabbed the first bit of Ray’s MOPP suit he could reach, which ended up being the straps of his tactical vest. He dragged Ray across the dirt as quickly as he could, the gunfire starting up just as they neared the cover of the Humvee. Walt sent off a few rounds as Brad dragged Ray around the Humvee to prop him against the wheel. 

There was blood slipping between Ray’s fingers, stark red against paling skin. Gunfire cracked around them, but all Brad could focus on were Ray’s brown eyes – wide and filled with pain – and his shoulders jerking under Brad’s hands. He pressed his hand to Ray’s throat, his own hand covered in blood within seconds. 

“Ray, Ray,” Brad clicked his fingers in front of Ray’s face. Ray’s eyes refocused, snapping to his fingers, “focus on me, stay calm.” There was a glint in Ray’s eyes that said he was going to crack a joke but when he opened his mouth, red spit slipped from his lips and down his chin. He choked, coughing as more blood spilled out. 

“Sergeant, I think I see where the fires coming from.” Trombley called. Ray’s eyes flicked over in Trombley’s direction, closed for a second, then he tilted his head even as he hunched over, blood splatting onto the dirt between his legs. 

Brad nodded, swallowing “Hasser, take over,” He called, pulling his hand away regretfully. Walt dropped down by their side, pressing where Brad’s hand had been with wide eyes. Ray grinned but Brad didn’t take any comfort in it as blood trailed from the corner of Ray’s mouth. 

“Where?” he shouted to Trombley, who didn't move even as the gunfire kicked up sand a foot away from him. 

“At our 11, about 2000 metres, right by that tree.” 

Brad looked over the hood of the Humvee, spying the only large tree in his eyeline with his binoculars. He watched muzzle flashes appear near the base of the tree. There was the sound of boots skidding on dirt and Brad looked over to see Doc Bryan sliding next to Ray, moving Walt’s hand away from Ray’s neck. 

“Hasser, get on your gun,” Brad called, as Walt pulled back, staring blankly at Ray, his hand painted with blood. 

Walt nodded, shaking his head, and went through Reporter’s door to climb up onto the M-19. “11 o’clock, 2000 metres” Brad repeated. The gun didn’t jam this time, sending several rounds into the treeline. Brad watched through his binoculars at where the rounds landed. 

“Left 50 at 20.” He said calmly. Walt sent a few more rounds out. “Left 10, up 10.” The rounds hit just in front of where the flashes were coming from. 

The oppressive sound of a Cobra appeared overhead – someone must’ve called it in – and Brad watched as one missile flew through the cloudless sky and smoked the enemy position. There were cheers, yells of ‘Get some!” but Brad didn’t cheer. 

“I need a stretcher!” Doc Bryan yelled over the din. Brad made eye contact with Ray, his eyelids flickering but a large smile spread across his face. Ray opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes bulged, and he was choking, blood splatting on the ground. Brad slid down beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pressing a hand to Ray’s chest as Ray’s shoulder shook. 

T and Stiney appeared carrying a stretcher, throwing it down by Doc, who looked up at him, “Help me get him on the stretcher.” Brad nodded and Doc grabbed Ray’s legs. Brad jumped up, sliding his arms under Ray’s shoulders and Walt appeared, fisting Ray’s pants by both hips to pull Ray’s ass off the dirt. They placed him down on the stretcher quickly, Doc guiding Ray onto his back carefully. Brad dropped to his knee by Ray’s side, staring at his RTO’s pale face. 

“Get his Kevlar off.” Brad nodded. He unclipped the chin strap and carefully slipped the Kevlar off, leaving his hand to cup the back of Ray’s head. Ray’s eyes were flickering more, hazing in and out. Brad brushed some of Ray’s hair back from his forehead, thumbing the edge of his hairline. Ray’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and his eyes flicked up to meet Brad’s. Brad gave him a small smile, grasping Ray’s left hand in his own. 

“We’ll fix you up Ray, I need my RTO.” Ray grinned up at Brad, his teeth stain with blood. 

Doc’s gloved hands moved Ray’s from his throat and Brad got his first look at the wound. It looked gruesome, a mess of blood and flesh. He swallowed back the urge to vomit. 

“Person, can you hear me?” Doc asked loudly as he pressed a white pad to Ray’s neck. Ray nodded, wincing. Brad squeezed his hand. 

Doc nodded, “With that hand,” he pointed to Ray’s free hand, “Out of five, tell me the pain.” Ray flicked up four fingers. 

Doc nodded again, “Open palm for yes, closed fist for no. Can you breathe?” Ray half closed his palm. Brad’s eyes flicked to Doc Bryan’s, and a sick feeling grew in his throat. Doc looked worried. 

“Do you have any other pain other than your throat?” Open palm. 

“Chest?” Closed fist. 

“Legs?” Closed fist. 

“Head?” Open palm. 

“He hit his head when he fell, landed on his right shoulder as well.” Brad said to Doc before turning to Ray. “Didn’t they teach you to put your hands out when you fall at whatever incestuous, farmyard kindergarten you went to?” Ray flipped him the bird, but his eyes crinkled with amusement. 

“Maybe that’s why you’re such a messed-up hick.” Walt added, his voice wavering only slightly. He settled cross-legged at Ray’s head. Brad thought he could see Doc lip twitch upwards as Poke, Pappy and Rudy appeared by Ray’s stretcher. Trombley had dropped down at Ray’s feet, his gun propped on his knees, staring intensely at him. 

“Dawg, I think the best thing about this is the fact that Person can’t talk back.” Poke smirked. 

Ray opened his mouth, his tongue moving but blood welled out of his mouth, spilling over his cheek and he started choking again. Brad and Doc grabbed Ray’s shoulders to turn him on his side, wet hacking filling the air as Ray coughed up blood onto the dirt. Brad swapped his hand in Ray’s, squeezing back as Ray gripped his hand, and reached over Ray’s side to rub between his shoulder blades. Ray’s fit subsided after several seconds so they tipped him back on to his back, Doc returning to checking Ray’s head. 

Poke’s smirk had faded away. 

Rudy sat down at Ray’s head, pressing a hand on Ray’s shoulder, “It’s okay brother, you’re not alone.” Ray rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. 

“If you try to speak again, I’m going to jam my KA-BUR down your throat.” Doc Bryan said icily. It had the desired effect, Ray’s mouth slamming shut with a click. 

Walt snickered and Brad grinned, “Finally some peace and quiet.” Ray narrowed his eyes at Brad, but Brad just grinned back. 

“Maybe when he gets his voice back, he’ll sound like Godfather.” Pappy added. Ray turned his glare to Pappy, and they all laughed. 

“I think Corporal Person’s had enough hazing, don’t you?” came a voice. Brad looked up from Ray’s eyes to Nate, who was trying to look unimpressed, but his mouth was quirked up a little too high. Ray pointed to his chest and made half of a heart, his other hand still in Brad’s grip, before pointing to Nate, making a kissing face. “Thank you Ray, that’s much appreciated.” Nate said, letting a whole half of his mouth quirk up. Everyone laughed and Nate continued, “How is he, Doc?” 

Doc Bryan looked up, crouching with one knee on the ground, “It didn't hit his carotid artery but I need a cas-evac.” Brad’s grip on Ray’s hand tightened and Ray squeezed back. 

Nate nodded firmly, “I’ll get you that cas-evac,” he said, turning on his heels and striding toward Encino Man, who was standing out by his Humvee, looking around blankly. Brad turned his focus back on Ray, whose eyes were fazing in and out again. 

“Hey, hey Ray,” Brad snapped his finger over Ray’s head. Ray’s eyes refocused, blinking slowly. Doc moved his hands away. 

“Hasser, put pressure on his throat but not too much, Brad lift his head up.” 

Brad let go of Ray’s hand and cupped the back of Ray’s head with both hands. He felt Ray grip the fabric of his pants in a fist, so he rubbed one thumb just above Ray’s ear. Rudy was chanting something under his breath and both Pappy and Poke were now crouched by him, staring at Ray. Walt pressed down on Ray’s neck, swallowing as Ray winced. Doc returned with another white pad, moving Walt’s hand to swap the now sodden, crimson one out, and began to wrap a roll of white gauze around Ray’s neck. 

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” 

Ray rose one eyebrow, looking amused. Poke snorted, “Just kick your foot or wave your hand man.” 

Doc wrapped Ray’s throat quickly and efficiently, tying the ends together. He passed Walt a wet wipe and then handed Brad one. He looked down at it with confusion for a second before he realised his palms were stained red. He took a deep breath, swallowing back panic, as Nate reappeared. Doc looked up expectantly. 

Nate shook his head, “Captain Schwetje’s ordered us to move out, we’re still in danger close, we’ll meet up with a cas-evac ten klicks from here.” 

Brad stared at Nate in disbelief. 

“What the fuck?” Poke was the first one to react, quickly followed by outbursts from Pappy, Walt and even Trombley. 

“Quiet!” Nate sighed, “They’re our orders.” 

“Sir with respect, Corporal Person needs that cas-evac,” Doc said strongly, “So whatever the fuck Captain Schwetje’s reason is, I don’t give a fuck.” 

Brad gripped Ray’s hand in his, laying his other one over the top. His eyes hadn’t left Ray since Nate had opened his mouth. Ray’s eyes looked faintly wet, but his mouth was pressed in a firm line. Brad rubbed his thumb in tight circles on the back of Ray’s hand. The only reason he hadn’t got up to hunt Encino Man down was because, for the first time he could remember, Ray looked scared. 

Nate breathed heavily, “I know Doc, I tried.” Brad looked up and watched Nate rub his forehead. A look of almost pure rage filled Nate’s eyes, and Brad squeezed Ray’s hand. He looked around the men, each one looking as angry as the next. Reporter was off to the side, but even he looked disbelievingly at Nate. 

Ray flicked his eyes from side to side and Brad nodded, patting Ray’s hand, “I know you tried sir,” he said, looking up at Nate. Nate stared back. Brad turned to Doc, “He’ll have to ride with you,” 

Doc turned to stare at him, his jaw working for a second before he nodded sharply, standing and moving to grab the end of the stretcher. Pappy stood too, grabbing the rungs by Ray’s head. 

Poke stared at Brad as he got up, laying Ray’s arm by his side, “You’re just gonna roll over Iceman?” 

Brad stared at Poke, “The longer we delay, the longer it takes to get Ray to the cas-evac.” He turned to Walt and Trombley, “Walt you’re driving, Trombley on the main gun.” 

Brad moved to get back in the Humvee, but Lovell pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Brad, go with Doc, Ray’ll listen to you more.” Brad hesitated. 

“It’s just ten klicks,” Walt added, “We’ll be okay for ten klicks.” 

“Besides, if we’re not going to fight this, we can at least piss off regiment.” Poke said, walking towards his Humvee. 

Brad glanced at Nate, who sighed and said, “I wasn’t hear for this discussion nor did I hear its outcome.” Before striding away for the command vehicle. 

Brad sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Fine, you bunch of flower-loving homosexuals.” He jogged to catch up with Pappy and Doc, who were loading Ray onto the back of Lovell’s Humvee. Brad slipped in beside Ray to covering the sector by Ray’s head, taking Doc's seat behind the passenger while he took T's. The Humvee pulled away, following Pappy’s Humvee further down the dirt road. He tried to keep his eyes on his sector, but they kept straying to Ray’s face. Each time they made eye contact, Ray would pull a face and Brad would grin. The ten klicks went by painfully slowly, like they were crawling. 

The radio crackled to life, but Brad tuned it out when Captain America’s voice sounded from the thing. He looked back at Ray, meeting his eyes which were going glassy again. He clicked his fingers above Ray’s head, “Hey, stay with me.” Ray blinked heavily and winced but gave him a small nod. 

“We’re out of danger close.” Baptista shouted from the driver's seat. 

Brad placed his gun beside him and tilted his body towards Ray’s. Ray blinked up at him as he grabbed the hand by Ray’s side, holding it tight in his hands, rubbing small circles into the back of it. The bandage around Ray’s neck was spotted with blood now, light pink visible under the layers of gauze. They hit a bump and Ray grimaced. 

The convoy pulled to a stop by a small hamlet and Doc jumped out of the Humvee, grabbing the closest rungs. Brad waved T off and grabbed the rungs by Ray’s head. Ray squinted up at him, so Brad leant over, blocking the bright sun from Ray’s eyes. Ray mouthed some words, and Brad rose an eyebrow back. He and Doc lifted the stretcher off the back of the Humvee and then he turned back to Ray, who rolled his eyes and mouthed the words slower. 

_I’ll be fine, you Viking motherfucker._

Brad snorted, looking up to where Doc was directing them, “I’m sure you will be: cockroaches have a tendency to survive most things.” 

Ray grinned up at him and pointed finger guns at him, _Yeah homes, I’m indestructible._

Brad huffed a laugh and stepped backwards into the piece of junk that Godfather classed as a cas-evac vehicle, carefully pulling Ray’s stretcher in after him. He knelt briefly beside Ray, “Don’t do anything stupid, Ray,” he said softly, brushing a thumb along Ray’s hairline. 

Ray nodded, _Copy that Iceman_. Brad let himself smile softly for a second, taking in Ray’s face. His cheek was still marked by the espresso burn and pale under dirt and sand. His brown eyes were duller, darker and tired looking, with faint bags underneath them. 

Brad swallowed thickly, squeezed Ray’s shoulder and made his way out of the vehicle. There was a finality to shutting the doors, hiding Ray’s body from sight. Doc slammed a hand on the back of it and then the van was peeling off down a dirt road. Brad stared after it, feeling useless and alone. A memory pricked at the back of his head and he recited a prayer his parents had taught him quietly. 

Finishing the prayer as he stared out into the desert, Brad sighed heavily, and rubbed a hand along his forehead. He about-faced and retreated to his Humvee. Rudy patted his shoulder as he passed him, Trombley giving him a sharp nod from the M-19 as he neared the Humvee. Walt was waiting for him in the driver’s seat and Brad had to blink a couple of times to get his head around the fact it wasn’t Ray sitting there. 

“It feels weird for me too,” Walt said with a subdued look. Brad didn’t answer other than with a firm nod and then they were off again, like Ray had never been shot at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Brad was a little relieved when Nate saddled up to his window. The atmosphere in the Humvee had turned tense and awkward: none of the others, except for Ray, knew how to react to his confession about Jess and Jaime. He had been bitter, still was in some respects. Ray gave him a small smile, probably rejoicing inside his backwards wired brain that Brad was willingly offering out personal information. 

“Change of orders, we’re going through the town.” Brad wasn’t surprised, with the way the invasion was going, it was inevitable that they’d get, as Ray would say, fucked with again. “Alpha’s already rolling, we’re picking up the rear.” Brad nodded, picking up his headset and slipping it over his head. Nate hovered by the window, looking forward out into the distance, before turning back. “It’s just us,” Brad slipped his Kevlar on, “There’s no air support because of a Shamal moving in. We’re the last element to roll through. Nobody stops, nobody gets cut off.” Brad fastened the chin strap, watching Ray nod beside him, his face clouded. 

Nate gripped Brad’s shoulder through the window, “I’m glad you’re my team leader.” He said in parting. 

“Thank you, sir.” Brad replied, picking up his M-16 to rest it on the window ledge. 

“Shit,” Ray said pointedly, pulling his own Kevlar on. 

They started off down the road towards the town, the map resting in Brad’s lap. Ray stayed quiet, focusing on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. Brad glanced at him and Ray gave him a tight, small smile. Alternatively, he could feel the excitement rolling off Trombley behind them. He sighed, looking out at the passing scenery. They started into the town, passing car wrecks. 

“We’re way behind,” Brad said, moving his head to address Ray. 

Ray gave him a look, before turning back to the road, “I’m doing the best that I can.” He said shortly. “This isn’t the 805 above La Jolla, you know?” he added on the end. 

The radio crackled to life. Brad listened and repeated the words so that Walt and Trombley - and Reporter - could hear. “Bravo Three has a casualty. Took fire from both sides.” 

He watched Reporter lean forward, asking, “Who was it?” 

“I don’t know.” He tuned back into the radio, repeating, “Alpha and H&S are through the town. Roger that.” He picked up a grenade, kissed it briefly, before loading it into the launcher attached to his gun. “Gentleman,” he said, “from now we’re gonna have to earn our stories.” 

They crawled through a wide street, a little too slowly for Brad’s liking. He looked down at his map and said, “Next left Ray.” Ray nodded shortly, pulling the wheel round to guide them into another wide set road. A donkey trotted up the street. 

Nate’s voice came across the radio, _“Hold your dispersion.”_

Brad could feel his adrenaline slowly rising as they continued to crawl through the streets. The buildings in his sector were chipped, the windows broken, doors chained shut. There was a lone bicycle propped up on a wall. It was too quiet; Brad would even admit that it felt like a ghost town. The sand crunched under the tyres as Poke’s voiced said through the comms, _“Hitman Two says Alpha cleared this town under heavy fire. No casualties were reported.”_

Ray pulled them right into the next road, which was narrower with tall buildings either side. Perfect spot for an ambush. They were two thirds down the road when Brad’s eyes snapped to the large building ahead, the whole of the side facing them filled with windows. Almost on cue, there was a clang and the windows were lit up from muzzle flashes. 

Reporter yelped behind him, but Brad ignored him to shout to Ray. Ray swerved from left to right and Walt started the M-19, the rounds clunking out. The electricity mast to their ten sparked a bright orange light. Walt released more rounds and Garza started up behind them. 

Brad waited patiently until foot mobiles appeared in his sector. He aimed and pulled the trigger, his gun kicking back a little. There was a target hidden behind a red car wreck, lifting his AK up to fire. He called to Reporter to pass another grenade, releasing a few more rounds as he waited. Reporter passed him the grenade and Brad loaded it up. He fired it at the base of the car and watched the car tip over, pushing the target into the open. He took aim and fired. The whole process was only seconds long, and he didn’t wait to watch the target fall, he’d already hit him enough. 

Ray swerved hard left, cursing, taking them around the corner, away from the ambush alley. More gunfire started up on either side and Brad picked off the men in the windows and doors. 

“I got one!” Trombley cheered, “Saw his knee explode.” 

Walt yelled, “Fuck! The Mark-19’s down.” 

The Humvee hit some wires, and there was a sudden stretching sound, wires pulling tort. Ray pulled to a stop, “Hasser's down. He caught a wire.” Brad didn’t turn and offer advice. Ray would figure out a solution, Brad’s input would just slow him down. Instead he watched his sector. The Humvee pulled back until Walt yelled down, “Good, go,” 

Brad yelled, “Is Hasser good?” as Ray shouted, “Are we good to go?”. They didn’t get an answer, just Reporter yelling go, go, go. Ray shifted the Humvee into gear and shot off, taking them out of the town, finally. 

_“All Hitman Vectors, radio check.”_

“This is Team 2-1 Alpha, up 120 and up.” Brad said into the mic calmly as Ray took them down a tarmac road. They listened in silence as the rest of their platoon called in. Brad looked out at the passing sand dunes, that looked practically the same as the one’s they’d passed going into the town. 

“We got fucking lit up,” Brad said distantly. He turned and shared a look with Ray, before Ray burst into laughter. Brad grinned, chuckling, “Everybody is okay, right?” 

Everyone called in yes, except for Ray. Trombley started to talk about the men he’d killed, but Brad ignored him to ask, quietly, “You all right?” 

Ray bit at his lip, before shaking his head, “Leg.” He said quietly, nodding down. Brad glanced down but couldn’t see anything. He leant over and caught sight of a red patch blooming on the outside of Ray’s left leg. 

“You okay to carry on?” 

Ray nodded, “Hurts like a bitch, but I can handle it.” Brad nodded, routing through his pockets to pull out a stripe of gauze. He leant over Ray’s lap to press it on the wound. “Homes, what the fuck?” Ray bitched, shuffling under Brad. 

“You need both hands to drive dumbass,” Brad replied, applying more pressure. Ray hissed through his teeth, but his hands held onto the wheel, his knuckles turning white. 

“Hey, is Ray okay?” Reporter asked. 

Brad nodded, “Just a nick, I don’t think it’s a whole bullet.” 

“Man, the Hajji’s can’t even shwack me right,” Ray complained. Brad grinned, hitting him lightly on the uninjured leg. 

The rest of the drive was bumpy, and Brad was silently glad when they drove into an embankment, all five Humvee’s pulling to a stop. There was cheering and yelling, Walt, Trombley and Reporter exiting the Humvee to join in with the racket. Ray leant back, letting Brad shuffle around to press on the wound better. 

“Fuck,” Ray said through clenched teeth. 

“How bad?” Brad asked, twisting in Ray’s lap. 

Ray took a breath, “Not great.” Brad hummed, grasping one of Ray’s hands to press on top of Brad’s. “But if you want to stay down there and suck me off, that would make it a lot better.” 

The crack was a little too forced for Brad’s liking, but he grinned anyway, “Not that I would suck your syphilis-ridden cock,” Ray rose an amused eyebrow, “but now wouldn’t be the best time.” 

Ray chuckled, leaning back against his headrest, “Good point, I’ll let you have a rain check.” 

Brad shook his head and pressed down a little hard; Ray twitched but knew better than to move a lot. Threading Ray’s fingers in his on the gauze, Brad leant up to yell, 

“Walt! Get the Corpsman.” He saw Walt’s head bob and disappear out of view. The noise had picked up, men congregating around Pappy’s Humvee. Brad looked back up at Ray’s face, his eyebrows narrowed in pain. Walt appeared, pulling Ray’s door open, Doc immediately kneeling by Ray. 

“What we got?” Doc asked, pulling on medical gloves. 

“Bullet wound in his outer thigh,” Brad said, withdrawing his and Ray’s hands from the gauze. Doc nodded, his face serious, and pulled the gauze away. Brad sat up, pulling his and Ray’s Kevlar off. He left his headset on and put his hand on Ray’s shoulder as Ray grimaced. 

“Bullets’ still lodged in,” Doc said, pulling out a pair of tweezers, “This is going to hurt.” He said dryly to Ray. 

“Yeah no shit,” Ray’s voice cracked, and he slammed his mouth and eyes shut. Brad squeezed Ray’s shoulder and Ray leaned into it, just slightly. Brad splayed his fingers out, brushing the nape of Ray’s neck. Doc narrowed his eyebrows and pulling the tweezers out. Brad caught sight of the large fragment in their grips. 

“Ricochet.” Brad said. 

“It hurt more than a fucking ricochet.” Ray bitched, looking pale. 

“It’s still a bullet wound.” Walt pointed out. 

“You need to take your MOPP suit off; I can’t bandage it properly with all this shit in the way.” Brad nodded and helped Ray unbuckle his vest. Ray managed to wrestle himself out of his clothes with minimal help from Brad, leaving him in his t-shirt and boxer-briefs. Brad watched Doc Bryan wrapped Ray’s thigh effectively, the white gauze only a few shades paler than Ray’s legs. When he noticed Ray biting his lips with his eyes firmly closed, Brad put his hand back on the nape of Ray’s neck. Ray cracked his eyes open and gave Brad a thankful smile, small and quick enough that no one but Brad could have caught it. 

“Keep it clean,” Doc said briskly, standing, “and try not to move your leg too much.” 

“Trust me homes, if it don’t need moving, it won’t.” 

The men had quietened down quickly: Brad could hear Sixta’s growling voice from inside the Humvee. Doc disappeared, leaving only Brad, Ray and Walt left. 

“You okay?” Walt asked, looking Ray over. 

“I’m fine Walt baby, no need to bring out the tissues.” 

Walt laughed, “Nah, I was going to start dishing your shit out to the guys.” 

Ray snorted, nodding to Brad, “Like the Iceman would let you.” 

“I don’t know.” Brad started, “It might make this Humvee less of a mess.” 

Ray grasped his chest, giving Brad an indignant look, “Brad, are you saying you love this piece of shit more than me.” 

“Whole heartedly.” Brad deadpanned. Ray gave Brad a wounded look; Walt burst out laughing and Brad cracked a smile. Ray huffed and turned to Walt, 

“I’m glad that my pain amuses you Walter.” 

Brad rolled his eyes, squeezing his hand. Ray’s shoulder drew up, trying to dislodge Brad’s hand, “We appreciate your sacrifice, I’ll see if I can find an agreeable Iraqi that will let you fuck one of their livestock.” 

Ray grinned, “Aww, see you do love me.” 

“But not as much as his Humvee,” Walt added, jumping back as Ray swung his arm out. Walt stumbled away, laughing. When his back turned, Brad leaned in to whisper in Ray’s ear. 

“Perhaps I do.” 

Ray smiled softly at Brad, leaning back into his seat, whispering, “That's gay homes.” Brad laughed, letting go of Ray’s neck and shuffling back onto his side of the Humvee. He adjusted his headset and said, while looking out of his window, “Put your clothes back on Corporal.” 

“Yes, Sergeant.” Ray cracked, wiggling his eyebrows. Brad grinned and watched the men disperse back to their Humvees.


	3. Chapter 3

Brad could feel the tension radiating off Ray. Even as Ray joked to Trombley, Brad felt it, thrumming from the other side of the Humvee. It got pushed to the back of his mind as the sound of Cobras drowned out his thoughts. The rumble grew, passing over their heads before a burst of bright light appeared ahead of them, to the left of the road. Another bang followed, lighting up the area; for a split second he could see the outline of a tree before the light faded. 

“God damn it.” Ray said. Brad flicked his eyes over to him, watching him adjust his N.V.G’s. They’d probably flared, making the light brighter than Ray could handle, but the Humvee didn’t stutter. Another explosion followed, but Brad couldn’t get a look at what the Cobras were firing it. 

He flicked his headset on, “Two Actual, this is Two One. Interrogative. Do you have any idea what those Cobras are shooting at?” 

_“Negative, Two One. We have no comms with the Cobras. Over.”_ Nate replied. Brad sighed as another explosion rocked in front of them, followed swiftly by a barrage of rockets, all of them hitting targets ahead of them. 

“Fuck!” 

“Why are we slowing, Ray?” Brad asked. 

“My N.V.G’s keep going off. It’s from the fucking flashes from the rockets keep washing ‘em out. I can’t see shit.” Brad listened to Ray punch out the words in frustration and keyed his headset again. 

“Two Actual, interrogative. Are we to continue forward into area being lit by those Cobras?” It was a pointless question, but Brad hoped that if he stated it out loud, it might just sound stupid enough for someone to do something. 

_“Two One, maintain direction and speed. Over.”_

“Roger that.” 

He watched orange tracers appear out of the darkness as the Cobras opened fire onto whatever they were engaging ahead. His headset crackled back to life and Brad continued to watch the tracers as Nate explained, 

_“Cobras are frapping the east side of the river. Over.”_

“Hold your sectors.” Brad ordered as the sound overhead became almost deafening, a Cobra right above them. Small metal pings sounded as shell casings rained down on them, hitting the Humvee. Reporter and Walt each swore but Ray maintained control over the Humvee, keeping it steady. 

“Shit!” Walt cursed again. 

“You all right Walt?” Brad asked, glancing over his shoulder at Walt’s feet. 

“Nothing. Shell cases hit me.” There was a little laughter in Walt’s voice, so Brad believed him and turned back to his sector. It was pitch black outside, no stars or moon, and the road was wide ahead of them, what little Brad could see of it. He scanned the treeline a couple of meters away, as the Humvee began to turn. 

“Why are we turning Ray?” 

“There was a ditch or something in the road.” Ray said, quickly followed by, “Hey, something’s blocking the bridge.” 

“You see it Walt?” Brad asked. 

“It’s like a connex box in the middle of the road.” Walt said. 

Brad switched his mic on as Ray slowed down, taking them closer to the bridge, “All Hitman Two Victors, be advised, there is an obstacle in front of the bridge. We cannot continue forward.” 

Nate replied as Ray turned them around another obstacle, something low and thin jutting from Brad’s side into the middle of the road, _“Hitman Two One, is there any way around it?”_ Brad looked forward; the obstacle was taller than the others, right in the middle of the road instead of to one side, completely blocked the enterance to the bridge. 

“Negative, Hitman Two. We need to peel.” It was looking more and more like a deliberate set-up. He glanced back into his night sight, but he couldn’t see any movement in the trees. “Ray, I need us to egress immediately. We’re in a kill zone here.” He could tell that Ray was as aware of the danger as him: he didn’t quip back something like 'Thanks for stating the obvious, Brad'. 

“Walt, can you see the ditch that I just drove past?” Ray yelled. 

“It ain’t a ditch,” Walt replied, his accent bleeding through, “It’s like a drainpipe that’s been drug onto the road.” 

“You have to make a three-point turn here. Turn around.” Brad told Ray, keeping his own voice calm. Ray immediately spun the wheel, turning them quickly to the left. The Cobras lit up the other side of the bridge in an orange glow. 

“I got trees on my left, maybe five meters off the road.” Trombley reported. Brad sighed to himself as Ray pulled them up a small bank, quickly switching to reverse. Walt swore and Ray took them back about four meters before they slowed. 

“Hey, Brad, Espera’s vehicle is in front of us. We’re fucking boxed in!” Ray said, pulling them the rest of the way back to the bridge and turning them to face forward. Ray was right, Lilley had pulled to their left and Rudy had pulled in behind them. Boxed in. 

“I don’t got nobody out here.” Trombley reported followed by Walt’s, “I got nothing.” Brad kept his eyes on his sector as Ray spoke into the radio, 

“Two One Bravo, this is Two One Alpha. We need you to turn around. Over.” 

Lilley’s voice crackled over the radio, _“Two One Alpha, this is Two One Bravo. Two Two is blocking us. Over.”_

“Damn it,” Ray said under his breath as Lilley finished. Brad hummed the first thing that came into his head, which unfortunately was one of the songs Ray had sung earlier, a goddamn fucking folk song, since 'Brad I’m not in the Humvee therefore I can sing whatever I want'. He stuck with it, murmuring the lyrics, “Sometimes I think it’s a sin, when I feel like I’m winnin’ when I’m losin again.” as the radio flared to life with Nate’s voice, 

_“Hitman Two Three, this is Hitman Two. We need you to turn around. You’re boxing the platoon in. How copy?”_ Brad scanned his sector slowly, singing a little louder as Baptista replied, 

_“Hitman Two, this is Hitman Two Three.”_ Brad scanned along the rocks at the edge of the road as he listened, _“We hung up on a pipe…”_

A man’s face and torso appeared in Brad’s view, staring right at them. 

“There are men in the trees.” Brad said calmly. He flicked his safety off and fired, hitting the man in the chest as he raised an AK. 

“Contact right!” The call went out but Brad ignored it, tracking a pair of foot mobiles along the tree line, firing when he got a clear shot. There was shouting all around them now, along with gunfire, both friendly and not. Brad took a breath and let the sounds wash over him, focusing on his scope and the men in front of it. Muzzle flashes flared in his scope and he followed them to a foot mobile hidden in the long grass. He picked him off and found another running across his field, taking him out too. 

There was a yell of, “Incoming!” and an explosion followed, hitting the berm in front of Brad, sending a plume of dust into the air. “Foot mobiles, left!” 

“Ray, how’s our progress egressing?” Brad called, taking out another foot mobile with an AK. 

“All Hitman Victors, this is Two One. Is it at all possible, for any of you to back up?” Ray said, slowly and pointedly, frustration bleeding through. 

_“Hitman Two Three…”_ Baptista said, before descending into a tirade of Spanish. 

“God damn Baptista!” Ray yelled, “How the fuck would he like it if I joined the Brazilian Marines and only spoke English?” 

“Ray,” Brad said dryly, sending off another round. He would have said something longer, but he was sure Ray got the message. There were still men appearing out of the treeline, only to get torn up by M-19’s. 

Brad heard a door clang open and Ray’s voice, distant but still loud say, “Lilley! What the fuck? Would you please, back the fuck up?” 

Brad had to resist the urge to turn and yell at Ray for getting out of the Humvee in the middle of a goddamn firefight. He focused his anger on picking off another fleeing foot mobile before he felt calm enough to turn and yell, “Ray!” 

Ray turned, yelling, “Not going well!” as he ducked back toward the Humvee. Brad started to turn, relaxing minutely. 

“Fuck!” Ray yelled, followed by a smack of a metal hitting metal. Brad whipped around to see Ray climb into the Humvee, pulling the door behind him. He opened his mouth to ask when someone yelled RPG, just audible over Nate on the comms; he had to turn back, catching sight of the mobile immediately and planting two rounds in them. 

“Ray.” Brad said, keeping his eyes on his sector. 

“Fuck.” 

“Ray.” 

Brad heard Ray sigh, even under all the gunfire, “Man down, Iceman.” 

Brad inhaled sharply, “Status.” 

“My shoulder. Hurts like a bitch,” Foot mobile sighted, shot aimed, shot fired, shot successful. 

“Can you move it?” Brad asked, swallowing. He’d have to swap Ray with Trombley, he couldn’t afford to take Walt off the M-19. 

“Not really, no.” Ray’s voice was tight, frustrated. Brad closed his eyes for a split second - fucking Ray - before locking on another foot mobile. “But no worries Brad, I can still drive.” 

“Ray, you have one working arm.” Brad spat, taking out another mobile. Where were they coming from? 

“If you can free up the traffic jam behind us, I can get us out.” Ray said calmly, too calmly. Brad huffed. There was another explosion, followed by Walt shouting, “Fuck yeah!” 

Brad sighed: Ray wasn’t a complete idiot, all current evidence to the fucking contrary. He pulled away from his scope, keying his mic as Reporter swore behind him. 

“Hitman Two, this is Two One. We are unable to move in any direction, over.” He opened his mouth to report Ray’s injury when the comms were quickly filled with Pappy’s voice, 

_“Hitman, this is Two Two! Man down! Say again, team two has a man down! Over.”_

Brad sighed heavily as Nate replied, his voice more raised than usual, _“Hitman Two, what is the status? I say again, what is the status of your man down? Over.”_

_“I’ve been hit in the foot. Break. We’ve applied the tourniquet and resumed fire. Over.”_

Ray snorted and Brad glowered through his scope. “You’ll give yourself a headache,” Ray chimed. Trombley laughed, but Brad assumed that had more to do with all the killing he was getting in. 

“Status Ray,” 

“Bleeding and in pain,” Ray replied, “Like I was one minute ago, what happened to staying frosty?” 

“Ray.” Brad said warningly. There was an increase in shouting between victors and Brad kept his ears open even as he sighted another mobile. He picked Nate’s voice, faintly before getting louder, closer. Brad watched Espera’s vehicle pull back up the berm in front of them. 

“Ray, I need you to pull back, then drive past the other victors.” Nate called, through Ray’s window, before disappearing up the column on foot. Crazy fuckers, all of them. 

“Brad put me in gear! Put it forward, along all the way and down.” Brad latched his safety, before twisting to grab the gearshift, doing as Ray said. Ray spun the wheel with one hand, grimacing in pain but pulling them back onto the berm smoothly. “Talk to me Walt,” Ray yelled. 

“Clear! Okay, go, go.” Walt called back. Ray glanced at Brad and Brad shifted them into first. Ray pulled them forward, around the hood of Espera’s vehicle and down the column. 

“Two One peeling,” Brad said into his mic, shifting them up a gear when Ray nodded. 

_“All Victors push past Bravo Three’s position and hold. Break. Break.”_ Nate said, _“Two Two what is Echo Five Papa’s status?”_

Brad listened with half an ear as he turned to Ray, switching on his light to look at Ray’s shoulder. There was a dark patch on the front of Ray’s MOPP suit, blood welling out of the wound. He pulled out his IFAK, routing through it for gauze. He pressed it to the wound, ignoring Ray’s grunt of pain. 

“Idiot,” he said under his breath, putting more pressure on the wound. 

Ray hissed, “Fuck, stop.” 

“Ray,” 

Ray cut him off, “No seriously, I can feel shit cracking.” Brad pulled back a little, but there wasn’t much he could do in the space of the Humvee. They continued down the road, to just past Bravo Three’s position, before Ray pulled them up behind them. 

“Check the tires Trombley,” Brad ordered. Trombley went without comment, Reporter rocking back and forth behind him. He should offer advice, but Ray was his first concern. 

“Walt, get down here!” He called. 

“Yeah, what’s…” Walt trailed off, looking between Ray’s head and Brad’s hand on Ray’s shoulder. 

“I need you to maintain pressure on Ray’s wound, don’t press too hard, we think something’s broken. I’ll get the Doc.” Walt nodded mutely, gently taking the gauze from Brad’s hand and leaning forward to press his other hand to the back of Ray’s shoulder. Ray was pale, his jaw clenched in pain, but he gave Brad a small smile as he opened the door. 

Brad strode away from the Humvee, gulping in fresh air. He could feel his hands shaking a little, excess adrenaline flowing through him. He glanced around him as he made his way to Pappy’s victor: if Doc was going to be anywhere it was there. They’d laid Pappy across the hood of his Humvee, with Doc crouched at his feet, turning the foot side to side slowly. 

Rudy turned to Brad as he approached, “Our Warrior Healer says he’s okay brother,” 

“You know, apart from the bullet wound to the foot,” Chaffin chimed, smirking in the darkness. 

Brad nodded slowly, turning to Doc Bryan, “When you’re done, I need you at Two One Alpha.” 

Doc looked up with a raised eyebrow, “Who?” 

Brad sighed, “Ray, GSW to the shoulder. We’ve been putting pressure on, but Ray said he could hear cracking.” 

“Cracking?” Doc repeated, standing. “Fuck.” he said, brushing past Brad towards Two One Alpha. Brad followed, his heart still thumping in his chest. Doc stormed up to their Humvee and yanked Ray’s door open, “Where?” 

Walt pulled back, “Here,” 

Doc nodded, peering around Ray’s shoulder. Brad leant on the strip of metal between Ray’s door and Trombley’s, watching Doc’s face contort as he examined the wound. 

“Can you stand?” he asked. Ray nodded, already moving his leg out of the vehicle. Brad hovered as Ray slipped out of the Humvee, swaying a little on his feet; Brad reached a hand out and caught Ray’s side before he could trip over. Doc stepped back, giving Ray room to move forward. Brad curled his arm around Ray’s waist, pressing his hand lightly to Ray’s hip. Ray glanced up at him but leaned into his hold. 

They guided him, slowly, over to Two Two, where Pappy was still laying on the hood. Brad kept his eyes on Ray and they caught on Ray’s arm, which was hanging limply by his side. Brad helped him sit on the hood, moving to his uninjured side. Doc pressed his hand against the front of Ray’s shoulder, but Ray flinched back, inhaling sharply. 

Doc narrowed his eyes, “We need to get his MOPP suit off; I can’t see shit.” Between Brad and Doc Bryan, they got Ray’s vest off, and pulled the suit jacket open, slipping it carefully off his uninjured left arm and then his right. Ray squeezed his eyes shut, but other than that, he didn’t show just how much it hurt. Doc hummed and took his KA-BUR to Ray’s t-shirt as well, cutting along the shoulder seam and ripping the rest. 

“You know if you wanted my t-shirt off, you coulda asked,” Ray said, wiggling his eyebrows. Brad rolled his eyes but grinned. His grin faltered when Doc shone a light on Ray’s shoulder. Bruising had already begun to appear, trailing a patch of purple around the line of his collar, where there was a raised bump. 

Poke whistled, “Impressive dawg.” 

“Your collarbone’s broken; the bullet must have hit it head on.” Doc said, pulling on another pair of gloves, running his fingers carefully along the bruising. Ray’s hand fisted the back of Brad’s MOPP suit so Brad rubbed gently circles into Ray’s lower back. Doc wiped over the entry wound and Ray winced and twitched. He opened a packet and taped the pad over the wound. 

“The cas-evac should be here in a few minutes,” Nate said, appearing by Pappy’s head. He tilted his head as he looked at Ray, moving his eyes to meet Brad’s over Ray’s shoulder. “What happened?” 

“Shot to the shoulder, plus a broken collarbone.” Doc reeled off, routing through his pack for something. 

“Were you okay to drive Corporal?” Nate asked, his face twisted with concerned. 

Ray waved his hand, then winced, “Yeah, my feet still work LT, I just had to get Brad to put me in gear.” 

Nate rose an eyebrow, “Good resourcefulness gentlemen.” Ray flashed Nate a toothy grin, flicking the thumb up on his limp arm. Doc pulled out a sling, slipping Ray’s forearm into it before guiding Ray’s arm up to tie the sling around Ray’s neck. He swore a blue streak, bumping his head on Brad’s shoulder. Doc pinched one of Ray’s fingers, watching the skin go pale before the blood returned to it. 

“Keep it still as possible,” Doc said. 

Ray nodded before freezing and groaning dramatically, tipping his head back. Brad rose an eyebrow as Ray’s eyes opened. 

“How am I supposed to jerk off without my right hand,” Ray whined. Brad grinned as the men that had gather around them snorted or laughed, even Nate had to close his eyes to keep his composure. 

“What is it with you white boys and masturbation?” Poke commented, coming to stand by Brad’s side. 

Ray pouted, “Where’s your sympathy homes, you should be feeling sorry for me.” 

Poke snorted, “Dawg, it’s wherever your brains were when you got out of your victor.” 

Brad snorted, “That implies that Ray had brains to lose in the first place, which is highly unlikely given that he was fed bathtub moonshine for the first six months of his life and is probably the product of a long line of incestuous relations.” Ray grinned up at Brad, wide and toothy, showing off his dimples. Another Humvee pulled up almost alongside Pappy’s, kicking up dirt. 

“Looks like your rides here gents,” Nate said, nodding to Brad before disappearing. 

Ray whooped, shuffling towards the edge of the hood. Brad curled his arm around Ray’s hips and lifted him up so that Ray could plant his feet on the ground. They walked together over to the backseat of the cas-evac vehicle. Ray managed to get himself into his seat on his own but shivered once he was sat down. Brad wasn’t surprised, Ray’s t-shirt was barely covering half of his chest, hanging from his uninjured shoulder. Someone handed Brad a blanket, so Brad threw it around Ray’s shoulders, carefully pulling it in over his chest. Even in the darkness, Ray’s shoulder was noticeably patchy with bruises. Brad brushed his thumb over the star at the top of Ray’s pec. Ray’s foot nudged Brad’s leg, “I’ll be fine Brad,” he whispered, his eyes serious as they stared into Brad’s, “even though I’m not going to be able to jerk off for months.” He added on the end with a cheeky grin, eyes lightening. 

Brad rolled his eyes, before saying very quietly, “I’m sure you can come up with something until I visit.” 

Ray grinned, licking his lip absently, “That better be a promise.” 

“Sure,” Brad said, leaning out of Ray’s space. Rudy was slipping Pappy’s beanie on with a mournful look. Brad sighed, reaching into his jacket pocket for his own beanie. He pulled it out and slipped it over Ray’s head, making sure that it covered Ray’s ears. Ray smiled at him - popping his dimples out - as Brad stepped back, giving him a jaunty wink as the Humvee pulled away. 

Brad stood next to Rudy, briefly meeting his eyes and seeing his feelings reflected back at him. They watched the taillights until they faded into the darkness.


End file.
